


The Sun Roars at the Prayer's End

by lonewytch



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005), No Fandom
Genre: Birthday Presents, Canon Het Relationship, F/M, Food Kink, Het, Sexual Content, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-28
Updated: 2011-10-28
Packaged: 2017-10-26 18:29:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/286536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lonewytch/pseuds/lonewytch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>River is most insistent that it is, in fact, the Doctor's birthday. Cue a birthday cake with lots of whipped cream and honey, plus some handcuffs. Obviously, smut ensues. </p>
            </blockquote>





	The Sun Roars at the Prayer's End

The Tardis door was slightly ajar when he returned and he was expecting trouble, but not exactly the kind of trouble he got. His clothes smelled of the discharge of plasma guns, his shirt was ripped and his calves ached a little from running too hard, for too long. His fingers were grasped tight around the Zaraov crystal that had made this such an _interesting_ day. Stealing it from the Sultan Rabini’s imperial palace had been harder then he’d expected, and required more skill, dexterity and general sneakiness than he had thought he’d need. He’d had to hide behind a large cheese-plant from a unit of passing guards he hadn’t expected, cram himself into a store cupboard stacked with china cups that wobbled and vibrated whenever he leaned against the shelves, and he’d frightened a passing concubine half to death when he accidentally caused a light directly above her to explode with his sonic. If deployed correctly the crystal could cause a miniature black hole to begin to form that would begin to swallow nearby matter, and though it was only being used as a political weight in a game of threats, it really was best off secreted away in a black fold of space somewhere, lost forever.  
   
He sighed heavily at the sight of the Tardis door ajar, wondering if he’d left it open in his madcap rush into the palace. Or if someone had somehow managed to pick the lock. Unlikely. He needed to get rid of the crystal somewhere suitable and then he had some important rewiring to do on the old girl, locations, circuits and fusions his mind was already skimming over. He really couldn’t be bothered with any more hassle today, so decided he must have left the door open, and walked in unprepared. He should have realised really, but, well, he was preoccupied. Before he even reached the steps to the console his arm was grabbed and twisted up behind his back and a blindfold slipped and pushed tight and dark around his eyes, causing explosions of colour behind his lids. He felt a smart knot being tied in the back of it and let a weary puff of air escape from his lips.

“I’d be careful with that hand if it was you, the diamond’s in there and, well, I wouldn’t like to go into what happened the last time the Tardis was involved in an explosion…”  
   
“Hush, sweetie” her voice gusted in his ear, a breath that was warm and slightly moist on his skin, sending an unexpected shiver from his ear and shooting down his neck.  
   
“River! I might have known!” he felt the cold steel of handcuffs begin to close around his wrist and he struggled but her grip enclosed him tightly, firmly, her hands unbelievably strong around him.  “Who else would gatecrash the Tardis?” he grumbled “What’s going on? What are you doing? Handcuffs _again_ River?”  
   
The second handcuff clicked into place around his other  wrist and he felt her hand warm around his, cupping carefully where the diamond was held, and then he felt her fingers gently pluck it from his palm  
   
“Now, just you be careful with that!” He felt rather than heard her sigh, a slightly exasperated and impatient sound as she moved away from him, and he felt suddenly as if he was left standing in a void, his sight stolen, slightly off balance, with no context or colour of a surrounding space.  
   
“Yes, sweetie. Don’t you worry, it’s safe and we’ll deal with it later” he heard her walk up the steps to the console and begin pulling levers and tapping buttons. The huff of the Tardis dematerialising with brakes on was absent, but he heard the unmistakable ripple of her entering the vortex and the gradual settle of her floating, hanging there like a feather on still water. Relieved as he was to be away from the palace and that it was River in the Tardis rather than a beetroot-faced guard, he was still wary, nerves on edge from a desperate run through the palace and at suddenly finding himself in such a ridiculous situation.  
   
“When are you?” he asked suspiciously. She laughed, her voice disembodied, slightly above him and away to the left. He swivelled his head, following her voice.  
   
“Don’t worry, sweetie, I’m well ahead of you on this one” there was still laughter bubbling under the surface of her voice, a slight hint of knowingness, almost tipping into smugness. She was damn infuriating when she was a lot older.  
   
“River, what’s going on”? He tried to put a demanding tone into his voice. But frankly he wasn’t feeling very commanding right now, trussed up in handcuffs, drifting in the middle of the floor, sightless and not anchored to anything.  
   
“It’s your birthday, my love, I’ve come to say happy birthday to you” her voice grew closer, warmer, and he heard her come down the steps, sensed the heat of her body approach his. When he felt her hair tickle at his neck, he knew her face was in touching distance of his, and he could smell her skin, all salt and smoke and perfume and the slight distant smell of rain. “I thought we may have a little celebration” her voice was whispering now in his ear, and again he felt that thrill shoot down through him, this time from neck, to spine, to knees, to fingers. She tugged at the crook of his elbow, urging him to move until he began to take blind wavering steps following where she pulled him onwards.  
   
“But…but…it’s not my birthday,” he spluttered, disorientated and devoid of the balance of his arms as he staggered after her “I don’t even know when it is…..I don’t do birthdays….and what has handcuffing me got to do with my birthday anyway….”

He felt them turn off a corridor and there was a slight change in the pressure of the air around him which let him know they had entered a room. The tug at his elbow stopped and he came to an uncertain standstill. Next thing, without warning he felt her body press up against the front of his, the swell of her breasts pushing into his chest, her arms snaking round to nestle at the small of his back. He could feel the heat of her radiating through his shirt, could feel blood rising and pressing against his and he felt a tingling begin to uncurl in the pit of his stomach. She pushed harder against him with her torso, flesh pushing and giving way to flesh, pressing harder and harder until he began to step backwards under the force of her. After a few steps his knees hit the side of something, then folded, and he felt himself flopping backwards into the welcoming softness of a bed, his arms trapped tight underneath him. She still wasn’t answering.  
   
“River, River, River, what’s going on? It ISN’T my birthday. What are you doing?”  
   
“My my Doctor, you _are_ slow on the uptake today.

” He felt her hands come to the back of his head, fumbling with the blindfold, and then he was momentarily blinded by the sudden amber light of the room. She stood at the edge of the bed, looking over him, and his breath caught in his throat because, oh, she did look magnificent. Her hair was wild, corkscrewing all over the place and glowing a soft orange in the light cast by the walls. A very low cut, very short dress clung to her. Deep blue satin sculpting her tiny waist, the flare of her hips, flowing across her like the sea in the fluctuating light from the walls. Lace framed the double swell of her breasts rising from her chest, and at the bottom of the dress it grazed the top of her thighs. He could see the strong muscle rippling under the skin of those thighs and his mind began to wander gradually up under the edge of her slip and the promise that was underneath it, until she cleared her throat and he tore his eyes back to her face.

“Do you get the message now, my love?”  
   
“Uh.” He didn’t need to fight the urge to scratch at his cheek nervously, because his arms were clamped immovably beneath him. Still, he twisted his hips awkwardly as he felt the tingle in his stomach rear its head again, and this time stretch itself down to his crotch to begin a burning heat there, and up and out over his chest, a spiralling vibration growing in his nerves. “Yes. I get it. But technically it still isn’t my birthday, I don’t celebrate it”  
   
“Oh Doctor, always so pedantic. Yes. You Do” with a great emphasis on each word, she climbed onto the bed straddling him, and she let her knees slide gradually apart tracking over the covers until she was pressed against him, the hot heat of her pushing down onto where his blood was rushing like fire, strong and uncontrollable.

“Nnnnh.” he made a strangled noise and couldn’t stop himself from arching up into her slightly, pressing into her. “Was that a spoiler?”

“ Yes, but not too much of one.” She was gradually unbuttoning his torn shirt, flicking glances up at his face as she worked the buttons free of the cotton, sultry and deep glances that seemed to rake up and down his body. She folded downwards, pushing his shirt aside to free his chest, hovering above him, and then arched her back, pressing her breasts into his bare chest. He felt the slide of the satin and the scratch of the lace marking their shape onto him, textures pressing against goose bumps that were rising on him, his skin becoming more sensitive, more attuned to her movements. Her face was nuzzling into him below his chin, and she grazed her lips up the side of his neck, sending a shooting thrill down the sides of him. He felt her tongue dart out, hot, wet, trailing his skin as she tasted him, before she breathed into his neck “now, let’s get you ready for this party.”  
   
She made short work of un-cuffing him, ordering him up to the end of the bed, where she produced a second set of handcuffs that she used to cuff each hand to a bedpost securely.

“Why do you have _two_ sets of handcuffs? Why would any person _need_ two sets of handcuffs?” he watched her as her small hands worked over his wrists, tucking him into the embrace of the metal clasps securely, he followed the line of her pretty neck, trailing eyes down and along her collar bone to where her skin flushed pink. As she clicked the final cuff in place, she bought her face close to his, looking back at him intently.

“Why do you think I have two pairs of handcuffs? Oh, but…Spoilers _again_ ” she pressed a finger to her lips and then to his. He darted his tongue out instantly as she touched him, pushing against her finger to taste her, opening his mouth to her touch, but she pulled away smiling knowingly. “Well, aren’t you the naughty one today, Doctor.”

He snorted, “Hardly! I’m not the one accosting people and handcuffing them to beds. And then insisting it’s people’s birthdays when it’s NOT. And what does my birthday have to do with it anyway? If you wanted to do this, you’d do it, birthday or no birthday.”  
   
She grinned at that, then suddenly tensed her muscles, bounced off him and went running out of the room, only to return a moment later carrying a very very large cake. He lifted his head from the pillow and strained to look at it. A sponge must be nestled away under there somewhere, under a pile of bright scarlet strawberries, buried in a mound of whipped and swirling cream. Amber honey was drizzled over the cream, patterning it crazily, marking it in tracks, lazily dripping and shining, reflecting the glowing light from the walls.

“Happy birthday, my Doctor” she cooed at him “Now, there aren’t candles. Not this year my love” she raised her eyebrow at him “not yet anyway.” She set the cake down on the nightstand next to them. “Now that you’ve seen your cake, I think it’s time for that blindfold to go back on. Don’t you?"

“Er, no I don’t actually; I’d rather look at you than the inside of a piece of cloth.”

“Ah, but Doctor, then the element of surprise is gone. Is it not?” She fingered the strip of black cloth thoughtfully, nodding. “Yes, my love, time for you to fly blind” and she brought it gently down onto his eyes, tying it securely behind his head.  
   
Seconds later he tasted her finger, pushing gently against his lips. He opened his mouth eagerly for it, lifting his tongue to lick at her tentatively at first, and then more greedily when he discovered the taste of cream and honey on her. The cream was silk and delicious on his tongue, the honey adding a pang of depth, a memory of a long summer on a distant planet somewhere. He sucked eagerly on her finger long after the last trace of cream was gone, and was well pleased with himself to hear her make a predatory sound deep in her throat. Seconds later he felt another gentle push against his mouth, and again opened his lips wide. He felt her crush a strawberry against his tongue and teeth, the skin of it bursting and sending moist sweetness across his lips, running out down the side of his cheek. Even as she pressed it into his mouth, he felt her slide her knees apart and then the hot weight of her pressed down onto him again, the heat permeating his trousers, enfolding him. He pushed up into her, thrusting slowly, languorously.  
   
She brought her mouth to his, and they shared a kiss that was rich with summer fruits, a perfume of fields and of sun, and there was a ripe sweetness that came not only from the fruit but from her mouth as well. Her tongue was hot, wet, sliding against his and he matched the urgency with which she kissed him. The handcuffs tugged at his wrists as he moved beneath her, tethered him deep in the here and now, and he moaned into her mouth at the sensation of being held there, kept by her and by only her. They surfaced for air and her hands grasped into his hair then, pulling at it, and he moaned at the tugging on his scalp, a tugging which sent sensations spider webbing all over him.

Her mouth met his again and this time there was the pure taste of honey on her, with only a thin wisp of cream kissing the edges of it. Their tongues fought between the delicious stickiness, the clinging sweetness, and he thrust himself up between her legs again, and again. When she pulled away, he felt in the tension of her muscles that she leaned, reaching outwards towards the night stand, before feeling her fingers trail their way down his chest to the waistband of his trousers, leaving a sticky path as they went. She followed this tugging path from there back to its source at his collar bone, followed it with the tip of her tongue finally trailing up and over his neck and onto his lips, darting into his mouth just a little. He could hear her breath coming harder and feel it hotter now. As her hands ran up his arms to his wrists and she pressed her body flush to his, squirming against him, he struggled against the handcuffs, playing along, making himself utterly helpless under her body, _wanting_ to be utterly helpless beneath her.  
   
“Happy birthday” she breathed hotly into his ear, before biting the lobe just hard enough, in way which took him deliciously to the edge of pain and then back out of it again, as she trailed kisses round the edge of his jaw line, back down his neck. He felt an aching sense of loss and cold for a moment as she lifted her enveloping warmth from him, but a second later she was tugging at the button and the zip of his pants, sliding them down round his ankles before pulling them off altogether. The air was cool against his inflamed skin and he felt a moment of self consciousness laid there exposed before her. He felt his cheeks redden, and as he did he heard her make an appreciative noise deep in her throat. His cock twitched involuntarily at that noise which seemed to be dragged up from the depths of her, and she laughed softly at that.

“My, you do blush prettily my love. I do so like you young for this very reason.”  
   
He felt the bed dip as she came to kneel beside him, and he could sense from the tension in her body again that she was reaching out for the cake. He gasped in shock as he felt cream stroked over the hot length of his cock, sliding smoothly, with honey trailing underneath it and pulling lightly on the sensitised skin. He felt a finger probe enquiringly at his lips and he opened them willingly to take in two fingers laden with sweetness. He felt her body bend from where she knelt at his side, and he tensed as he felt the first brush of her warm tongue against the tip of his cock. He sucked eagerly on her fingers as she licked at him with a gentle lapping motion at first which barely touched him, cleaning the outside layers of cream and honey away from him. He tried to thrust up to gain more traction against her tongue, but with her free hand she held his hips, pressed down into the bed, down while she lapped, slowly, softly up and down the length of him. He could feel the fire rising now, released from where it nestled. Spreading through his thighs, hot-cold fingers that pushed onwards through his nerves, and then upwards through his abdomen, but all of it concentrated and pulsing from where her tongue moved on him with more and more pressure.

The last of the cream was gone from her fingers and now he tasted only her skin, intimately, closely, pressing into him as he longed to press into her. He could not help himself crying out when she finally took the length of him into her mouth whole, her lips sliding down softly around him at first, the delicious warmth enveloping him holding him still inside her for a moment. But then there was nothing tentative or soft about her, as in her next movement her mouth slid down harder, tighter on him. Her tongue worked around his cock and another cry escaped him, low guttural, crashing up from deep inside him. She cleaned him of cream and honey thoroughly, her mouth gripping, sucking, her tongue working ceaselessly over him from root to tip and back again in a continual motion, every movement she made eliciting more sounds from him, primal, animal sounds coming from some deep and instinctive part of his soul, sounds that he seemed to have no control over.  
   
She broke off before he could peak and he moaned again for the loss of contact as the air pushed cold against his wet skin.

“My, aren’t we noisy today?” she said, and he had no reasonable reply to that, so just made a growling sound at her, knowing that she would be insufferably smug over this later. “I think we’ll lose the blindfold again for now” she said triumphantly making short work of the knot “I want to see your eyes properly.” She stripped the cloth away and as his eyes accustomed to the light he could see that she was fully naked in front of him, and he wondered at what point she’d removed her dress. She looked stunning. She glowed in the light of the Tardis as if she was wearing it, and the light suited her, the way it kissed and curved at her breasts, stroked over her nipples. He trailed his eyes down her body, in lieu of his hands, to the soft hair in between her legs and let them rest there a moment, before trailing them back up to her eye, watching the slow smile grow and spread across her face.  
   
“Now” she said, reaching to the cake, and beginning to trail cream and honey over her own body with her fingers. Around her breasts, over her nipples, circling on her stomach, marking herself deliberately and methodically as though this were some sort of tribal ritual. He realised with a start that she was tracing Gallifreyan symbols onto herself, symbols of lust, symbols of wonder and of longing, symbols he hadn’t seen for many years and which invoked a deep yearning in him. She bent to him, her breasts hanging full and perfect, the light from the walls glancing off the circles within circles on her skin. He lifted his head, tracing his tongue over her heating skin, marking the paths of the words, erasing the lines of cream, but burning fresh words of heat and wetness from inside his mouth onto her. He tracked the symbols around each breast, before taking her firm nipples into his mouth one by one. He laved them with his tongue, alternately sucking, rolling between his lips and nipping them with his teeth experimentally. She moaned at that and pressed herself down against his cock, and he could feel the delicious warmth of her slide along him. He licked and sucked at her breasts until she was clean, before pushing himself urgently up against her, watching the lust darken her eyes, her pupils dilate as she pulsed against him.  
   
“River….please” He was longing for her now, desperate to be inside her, pulling and squirming in the sharp metal grasp of the handcuffs, twisting and rubbing himself against her in frustration.

Now it was her turn to look pleased with herself, smiling down at him and looking stunningly beautiful in the light. “Well, since it’s your birthday. Happy birthday, my love.”

She slid another honey and cream coated finger slowly into his mouth, pressing at his tongue and rubbing at his lips, before gripping his cock tight in her other hand and beginning to slide herself down onto him. A deep moaning sign escaped her, and as he felt first the sensitive head and then the whole length of himself slip easily into her wetness, he matched her tone, her rhythm, their voices vibrating in the air.

She began to ride him then, her head dipped down, her hair tickling his face. He could feel with every nerve he possessed the hot delicious innermost parts of her sliding down onto him again and again and again. Their voices grew in pitch and volume as he matched her thrust for thrust and there was desperation, a primitive need in the way she held onto him, pushing herself onto him, breaking like waves over him. She pushed herself back, then, sitting up straight and looking down at him and the look in her eyes was one of ownership. “You are mine” it said, and a million other things besides, a million other things that thrilled him inside the deepest nerves in his body. Holding his eye, she rolled her hips on him, round and backwards, and forwards, her eyes on his, as they both sang out their pleasure, and he didn’t seem to know which way was which anymore, it seemed as if the hot core of her pulled him in every direction.

Colours began to cloud his vision, a light rising in his mind, drawn up from the roots of him. A fierce burning all centred on the point where their bodies were locked, the point where she tightened around him as she bucked faster and faster on him, a point where there was nothing else but light as his orgasm rose in him and came crashing down with a moaning cry of her name, a pulsing, an emptying into her secret places. He felt her rise and then peak as she bucked erratically and he felt her squeezing and releasing inside him. She cried out his name then, and the sound of it lit up the colours inside him, reached into him, pulling the last sensation from him, before she flopped down forwards onto him, both of them breathing heavily, still locked together.  
   
Their bodies were slick with sweat, sticky with cream and honey when she finally rolled to the side, and she leaned on one elbow looking at him consideringly.

“I think I rather like birthdays” he conceded.

She rolled her eyes at that “thought it wasn’t your birthday” she answered smartly, kissing him, a tender kiss placed on his brow in the centre.

“Well…it could be, yes, in fact you’re right, I think it is. Or maybe it’s tomorrow?”

She snorted with laughter. “Hmm, we’ll see” she looked speculatively up at the handcuffs. “Now, I do like a man in handcuffs”

“Me too. No…I  mean not a man in handcuffs…I  mean this man in handcuffs. I mean I like me in handcuffs. I like being in handcuffs.” He stammered out. She raised one eyebrow at him.

“I know, sweetie. Oh, do I know that”

“Er, spoilers! Can I have some more birthday cake?”

“Cheeky”

“No, I mean take the handcuffs off, a slice of cake and a nice cup of tea. I like tea. “

She rolled her eyes at him again for that. “Tea. The man want a post-coital cup of tea” she shook her head at him, curls reflecting the light as they bounced. “Oh Doctor, you can certainly have some more cake, but those handcuffs are going straight back on, and oh!” She winked at him, “we need to light your candles!"  



End file.
